Priorities
by Midorima Kazunari
Summary: While in college, Akashi makes plans to escape his father. (A companion piece to Partners.)
1. Chapter 1

"Do you have a moment to spare for me, Father?" Akashi Seijūrō asked as he stood in the threshold of his father's office.

"I suppose so, if it is, as you say, only a moment," the senior Akashi said, never bothering to look up from his paperwork.

"Father, I have something to show you," Seijūrō said. Now that he'd been acknowledged, he strode into the room and handed his father the paper that he had received in the morning's mail.

Akashi senior took the missive. He efficiently noted the red and blue letterhead before his eyes scanned the body of the text.

Akashi had the content memorized and as he watched his father's eyes dance over the paper, he heard the words again:

_Congratulations Mr. Akashi!_

_We are proud to announce that your hard work and natural skill has led us to offer you a place for the oncoming season on the starting line-up of the Los Angeles..._

"A first-rate offer from a first-rate team. As is to be expected, Seijūrō.."

"Thank you, father, I am very pleased."

"As you should be," he said. "Now, tell me are you prepared for the marriage interview tonight? The Kamiya family is a very old and traditional family. I will accept nothing but your utmost attention to this matter tonight. Is that understood?" As he spoke, Akashi-sama folded the invitation and letter of intent back along the crease lines and then slipped them back into the garishly colored envelope. He placed the whole thing into the teeth of the shredder to the side of the desk.

"Yes, sir," Seijūrō answered his father, watching the red and blue confetti signify the end of his dreams of escaping across the ocean and away from his father's ultimate domination. He might have been the Emperor, but his father was God.


	2. Chapter 2

Hokkaido University was one of the most prestigious schools of higher learning in all of Japan. They were internationally recognized for their incredibly selective admissions process and for their notably difficult entrances exams, which were some of the hardest in the country. The school's motto, "Be ambitious for that attainment of all that man ought to be," also fit well with Akashi family's personal philosophy. All those factors added together made the school exceedingly attractive to Akashi-sama, the head of the Akashi Financial Group and the father of Akashi Seijūrō.

For Seijūrō, the school was desirable for other reasons, such as its distance from his father. Even being on a separate island wasn't far enough away; his father had spies everywhere, but at least it was a start. The school had a basketball team and a Shogi club, so it could prove… entertaining.

* * *

Akashi's fifteen-inch Stealth MacBook Pro was perhaps the most expensive computer owned by any first-year student at Hokkaido University, but as he stared at it, he knew that in had one major flaw. Yes, it was a custom one-off, limited edition with matte screen, a 256GB solid state drive and 8GB of RAM, but it also came with the most intrusive spyware programs available, including a key logger, web camera that recorded his every move, and most probably a voice recorder as well. He knew that and still used it for most of his mundane everyday chores. To do otherwise would have tipped his father off that he knew about the complete lack of privacy he was afforded.

All he wanted to do today was send a greeting to his friend and former vice-captain, Midorima Shintarō, on the occasion of his birthday. There was no need to keep the contents of the message secretive, but Shintarō was chasing the dreams he wished he could chase, and his father had impressed upon him that having contact with "that disgusting sodomite and his whore" would not be tolerated.

If Akashi could call anyone a friend, it was Shintarō, whom he'd manipulated, scared, and traumatized, yet still forgave him time and time again. He didn't share his father's views on homosexuality in general, or Shintarō in particular, so he'd set up an anonymous email account on the English language version of the website Google months ago on one of the rare occasions he'd been granted some clemency. He never accessed the email on his phone, which was similarly bugged, or his laptop, or for that matter, any school computer, because his father's reach was just that long and he was just that paranoid.

Today the classroom was buzzing with talk about the upcoming group presentations and that noise provided enough cover to be sneaky.

"May I borrow your computer for a moment?" Akashi asked the brown-haired young man who sat in the front row of the class, nearest to the window. The man was dressed comfortably in a black t-shirt and gray slacks. He didn't look poor, not the kind his father could entice with bribes to spy on his son, but he didn't look like one of the privileged elites that would naturally gossip about him in certain circles either. Instead of participating in the general clamor of the class, he was reading 1Q84, Murikami Haruki's latest book. He seemed… potentially safe.

"What's wrong with yours, Akashi-kun?" the young man answered.

"You know me?" Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he wasn't safe. He glared down at the man.

"Of course I know you. We played against each other in high school. But I'm sure you wouldn't remember someone like me. We were only on the court at the same time for about five minutes in the third quarter, and I was scared to death of you the entire time. I'm sure you were too busy concentrating on Kuroko-kun or Kagami-kun to notice a nobody like me."

"Serin, ah," Akashi said, exhaling all the poisonous thoughts that had clouded his mind. "I don't remember your name."

"Oh, forgive me," he said, not getting out of his seat. "I'm Furihata Kōki."

"What position do you play?"

"Point Guard, same as you, but I'm not very good, so normally I only played when we were up by enough points that it didn't matter."

"I see," Akashi said. He wasn't sure if he trusted this man, but if he was a friend of Kuroko's, he was a prospective ally.

"So, what's wrong with your computer, Akashi-kun? I'm pretty good with them, I could look at it for you, if you'd like?"

"The battery is not holding a charge," he lied.

"Oh, well, I can't help with that, but sure, you're welcome to borrow mine," Furihata said.

Instead of taking it back to his seat, Akashi took the empty place next to Furihata and propped the laptop on his knees. He opened a new InPrivate window in IE and logged on to his secret account.

He ran through the new emails that had come in since he'd last been able to check the account, over a month ago, and deleted all but a few of them unread. Reo's emails were always amusing – talking pointedly and ambiguously about his latest conquests in the bedroom – but he didn't have time for that kind of thing now.

He opened a blank message and began typing what he'd already composed in his head – the only truly private place he had – before he'd approached the former Serin Point Guard.

_Shintarō, I hope that your birthday brings you peace and security. Give my best wishes to your beloved Kazunari. _– _Your friend, Seijūrō_

When he was finished, he hit send, signed out, and closed the browser. He reopened it quickly and double-checked to make sure that no trace of his movements were left in the computer's memory. Being as assured as he could be, he handed the laptop back to Furihata.

"I appreciate it," Akashi said, dipping his head just a little.

"You're welcome. Any time."

"You're not part of the basketball club," Akashi said. "Why?"

"It was either basketball, which is a hobby for me, or the Graphic Arts Club. Since I'm studying Graphic Design, I thought it'd be best to prioritize," he sighed. "It was a difficult decision, but I have to think of my future, or at least that's what my parents tell me."

"I see," Akashi answered.

"But, I'll support the team, even if it is from the stands, Akashi-kun. I look forward to seeing you play now that I won't be against you."

"You said you were scared of me, but you're not anymore," Akashi stated.

"No, I'm terrified, but as long as there's not a game on the line and I don't have to stand up and show you how bad my knees are shaking, I'm pretty good at faking it, neh?" Furihata said with a big grin.

The bell rang and the class began to file out, but Akashi continued to stare at Furihata with his two-toned eyes for a second longer, as if hoping to see the other man stand and quake before him. Instead, when Furihata made no move to get up, he made a wild and spontaneous decision.

"I'll buy you lunch," Akashi said. "To thank you for your help."

"That's not necessary," Furihata insisted.

"No, but it is, as Tetsuya would say, the right thing to do."

"I have another class in fifteen minutes, so I can't today."

"Another time then," Akashi said.

"Sure, um, I have a school meal plan, so maybe we'll run into each other at the cafeteria sometime."


	3. Chapter 3

The game was, unsurprisingly, an overwhelming victory for Hokkaido University. They hadn't been a bad team before Akashi joined, but with him the absolute certainty of success was assured.

He'd seen two familiar faces in the stands that night. He wasn't at all surprised that Furihata Kōki had turned up, even if the handmade cardboard sign that said "Go Akashi, Go" was novel. The other face belonged to Reo Mibuchi.

After the game, Furihata had left with the rest of the crowd, but Reo stayed behind, lingering at the edge of the court until he caught Akashi's eye and gestured for the other to join him.

"You're a long way from home, Mibuchi," Akashi said. This man was one of the few he knew, because of his lifestyle choices, would never be approached by his father, but that didn't mean he trusted the other people in the room to not report this contact.

"I am, but it was your first game of the season, I was in town, and I knew no one else would be in the stands to support you, so why not? Have you seen these?" he asked, changing the topic so fast that anyone listening would be lost for a few seconds. Reo held up a small white box with the Apple logo.

"No, I haven't. Tech toys don't interest me." At least that was the line he used whenever the topic arose. It was easier to eschew technology that could be used as another form of surveillance.

"My boyfriend's always nagging me to get a smart phone, but I'm under contract for the next two years and I like a phone that's just a phone, you know?" Reo unsealed the box and began discarding the packing into the open trash can nearby. "But, I got this to check my email on, just to make him happy. Now that we've moved in together and declared this thing official, I'm trying to be more… sensitive to his needs."

"Official? So you've finally settled down," Akashi stated.

"I thought I sent you an email with our new address, didn't you get it?" Reo winked.

"I don't remember seeing anything from you. I don't have a lot of time for such frivolities."

"Don't worry Sei-chan, you'll always be my first love, so if you ever decide to come over to the dark side, my god, I'll leave him in a moment," Reo said, reaching over and patting Akashi on the ass. As he did so, he slipped the small device into the other's pocket.

"It is a bit ironic mentioning God and living in sin with another man in the same sentence, isn't it, Mibuchi?" They both knew that Akashi's personal beliefs were nothing like what he espoused aloud, as well as they both knew he had to say it, just in case someone was listening.

"You've got to stop living in the 20th century. This is a new age, Sei-chan. You've got to think _out of the box_ if you want to _escape_ such antiquated thinking." Akashi would have understood the subtext of the man's words, even if he hadn't skillfully lisped over certain words. He added Mibuchi to the list of potential allies he might be able to recruit in order to make his escape from his father.

"You know," Reo continued, now with an identical device in hand, "I was thinking of downloading this American app called Snap Chat. Have you heard of it? It's this cool new messaging service that automatically deletes messages after 10 seconds after being opened. I do hate when my boyfriend reads all my old texts and then questions me about who I was speaking with and what each text means. Doesn't he know that trust is sexy?"

"I think he would be unwise to trust you," Akashi answered. He tried to keep his voice disinterested with a hint of disgusted. Reo winked.

"You need to get laid, my friend, then you wouldn't be so uptight."

"I've had my fair share of dalliances, Mibuchi, don't assume otherwise."

"Oh yeah, when was the last time?"

"Right after I got engaged. The stupid bitch spread her legs on the first date. I told my father, and it was decided she was unsuitable to be an Akashi if she had such little restraint."

"You are a cold man, Sei-chan."

"And currently unattached. That suits me fine; I want to focus on my studies."

"Make sure you remember to clean out your locker Sei-chan, I know you always forgot to do that in our Razukan days. You don't want your new teammates calling you Stinky Seijūrō again, do you?"

There was something hidden in his locker, he knew from the words. No one would have dare to call him any such nickname, even if his locker hadn't been immaculate.

"Since you came all this way to see me –"

"Did I give that impression?" Reo interrupted with a cheeky grin. "I'm visiting relatives in the area, and just decided to pop by."

"Excellent, then I feel no obligation to fund your return trip."

"And you shouldn't. Have a good season, Sei-chan. Perhaps we will play against each other at the  
Nationals."

"Perhaps, if you can ward off defeat."

* * *

Most of his teammates were either gone or showering, so when Akashi returned to the locker room, it was empty. He didn't think his father would stoop so low as to bug the inside of a men's changing room with video cameras like the one he'd found by accident in his dorm room, but he wouldn't put it past the man to have ears even here.

Akashi twirled the dial on the lock that held his locker closed and wondered what other skills Reo would be able to teach him if they could have more than thirty seconds alone. All his things were exactly where they'd been carefully laid out before the game. He stripped out of his sweaty uniform and changed into a clean t-shirt and oddly heavy shorts. He didn't shower here; it was his policy to never shower where his teammates could observe him naked and, to a certain point, defenseless. He loaded up his bag with his dirty laundry, and pocketed his keys with the foreign object. He had to hope whatever it was, that it wasn't delicate.

He took a circuitous path back home, and when he was relatively sure he was unobserved, he pulled the small black box out of his pocket. Taped to the front of it was a pre-paid gift card and a sticky note.

_You can use the gift card to buy apps for the iPod. The black square is an interesting device. It picks up bugs, auditory and visual. Push the switch on the bottom and when you are in range of any such devices, it will subtly vibrate. It takes 2 AA batteries. Good luck and don't forget to email me. I really do miss you. XXOO!_

It was useful having a friend whose father was a member of an influential Yakuza family, Akashi thought, as he put the note in his mouth and chewed it a few times before swallowing it. He thumbed the button on the miracle device, and put it back into his pocket. As he approached the next intersection, it began to vibrate.

* * *

Akashi knew of at least one spying device in his room, but he tamped down the excitement he felt as he approached his dorm room door with the buzzing devise in his pocket. His room was just below the hallway's security camera, so he wasn't surprised it was active at the moment. He walked into his room and closed the door. The box feel silent in the short antechamber. He was spoiled, at least in his living accommodations. The room he rented was normally reserved for married couples without children. He had his own private bathroom, a living/dining area, and a separate bedroom. He walked slowly to the kitchenette, acutely aware of the little device in his pocket. As he approached the refrigerator, it began to vibrate. That made sense, the camera he found was in the frame of the family portrait that hung over the kitchen table.

He grabbed a Pocari Sweat and continued on to his desk. He turned on his laptop and the television, switching from the all-sport channel that was currently playing a recap of today's highlights, to the local news on channel 23. All his actions were completely normal; he was just going about his day, but he marked the position as the device stopped vibrating near the television, but vibrate again in front of the computer. None of this was surprising.

As he drained the bottle of Pocari, he did something else very rote, he visited the bathroom. As soon as he closed the door, the vibration ceased. He peed and then walked the length of the bathroom, and from end to end the device stayed silent.

He spent no more time than would seem usual in the bathroom before going into the bedroom to change out of his clothes. Only one spot in his bedroom vibrated. Somehow that was a relief.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is dedicated to Hikarumeaningradiance.

* * *

When the professor announced that the newest assignment would be a group project, the reaction that spread through out the classroom was mixed.

Akashi hated group work. He'd rather just do all the work himself, and let the group take credit as they wanted. In high school, when presented with group work, he would either pick his teammates, who were use to taking orders from him, or the poorest scholarship students, whom he could bribe to step back and allow him to do all the work. Either way, there was a benefit of being an Akashi in high school where everyone knew his reputation. He wasn't exactly an unknown quantity here, but in his first semester of college, he hadn't yet cemented his reputation.

He looked around the classroom and none of the other students were dressed in such a way as to suggest they were dependent on scholarships for their education. A few of the pretty, artless girls tried to catch his eye as he surveyed the room, but he knew better than to make eye contact. Any female he got close to was automatically under scrutiny as a potential bride, and after getting rid of the last one, he wasn't interesting in going through that again so soon. He wanted to focus on his studies now. He was depending on his brain to get out of this life.

* * *

Furihata also dreaded group work, but mostly because he was afraid that he would be saddled with people who would dump all the work on him. He similarly looked over the other students and he sighed. A flash of red hair caught his attention.

"Hey, Furihata, do you want to be partners?" his table mate, Mizutani asked. "I work at the library, so I'm really good at research, but I'm not so good at PowerPoint, or putting presentations together, or for that matter getting up in front of the class and giving them. You're a graphic design student, right?"

"Yeah, I guess that could work," Furihata said. "But maybe we should get one more for our group. It sounds like neither of us are very good at public speaking."

"It looks like all the good students are already taken," Mizutani remarked, surveying the small clusters of twos and threes that had already started to form.

"How about Akashi-kun? Even though we were in separate high schools, his name always appeared at the top of the national rankings on -"

"That guy? With the crazy-ass eyes?"

"He can't help the color of his eyes," Furihata frowned.

"I'm not talking about the color..."

Akashi knew he was being spoken about; he had an almost sixth sense about those kinds of things, so he looked in the direction he felt those stares coming from and saw the two discussing him were in a heated debate.

Furihata looked up, feeling Akashi's return stare, and he mouthed the words "Join our group?"

Furihata had decent grades, as far as Akashi could tell from the minimal research he'd done following their last encounter. His name appeared in the top quarter of students in this class, as ranked by their test scores, and likewise in the rankings from their third year of high school.

The boy next to him - Akashi raked his mind for a name - Mizutani? It wasn't a name he was familiar with. Akashi nodded and gathered up his things to join them.

* * *

Akashi felt out-of-sorts all Saturday morning for no discernible reason. Practice went so smoothly, it might have run itself. His form was unflaggingly perfect. His teammates were harmonious. There was absolutely no reason to be in such a mood, so as he dressed post-shower for his group meeting, he wondered why his stomach was twisted up in more knots than usual. He popped an antacid and pushed through the feeling, that was, afetr all, what Akashi had been trained to do.

He gathered up his things. Instead of taking his MacBook, he choose a simple spiral notebook and pen. His assigned role in the group was as scribe and figurehead, but he'd already jumped ahead and began researching their topic and sketching out ideas for what the visual portion would look like. He wanted, deep down, to believe that he could depend on his classmates to do their share of the work, but he wasn't going to jeopardize his grade with wishful, deluded thinking.

He arrived at Furihata's dormitory at the same time as Mitzutani and the two took the stairs to the back corner of the third floor. Furihata meet them with a smile and welcomed them in.

"I brought tea," Akashi said, pushing the convenience store bag into the other young man's arms as he slipped out of his shoes.

"Thanks, Akashi-kun, that was thoughtful of you."

Akashi had, of course ,toured the entire residential dormitory complex before deciding which room suited his needs best, but he had never seen this floor plan before. Instead of the long, narrow rooms he remembered from the rest of this building, this one was strangely short and squat, as if the builders had completed all the others perfectly, but had gotten to the end of the hallway and had space leftover. As the door closed behind him, the device in his pocket stilled. Akashi let out the breath he'd been holding.

The room held a bed, a desk built into the wall, a sink, and a mini refrigerator. On the counter, at the sink's edge, a small dish drainer held a cup, a bowl, and a plate. In the utensil basket, a red toothbrush stood awkwardly.

Furihata had a rug in the center of the room and it was to there that Akashi and Mitzutani were directed.

"I've got a whole bunch of journal articles I think will be useful," Mitzutani said, as he dumped the contents of his school bag onto the floor.

Akashi picked up the first one to come to his hand, The Journal of Modern Language, and saw that it was the property of the library.

"When did the library change its policy about loaning periodicals?" Akashi asked, his eyes focused on the bar code.

"They haven't, but its a perk of working in the there. I took it them out the back door so as not to set off the security system, and I'll have them back on the shelf first thing in the morning when the library opens, but tonight... we have all the time in the world with them!"

"Could not the same have been true if you'd simply photocopied the pertinent articles?" Akashi asked as he flipped to the table of contents and found the article he wanted.

"I guess, but then I wouldn't be so awesome, now would I?" Mizutani laughed, slapping Akashi on the back. Akashi's head snapped up at the sudden and unwelcome contact and he had to restrain the primal instincts his father had instilled in him from childhood - _answer every insult with sharper one, answer every strike with a decisive one._ Akashi held his tongue and his hand, but Mitzutani's laughter died quickly once he saw the look in Akashi's eyes.

* * *

"Anyone hungry?" Furihata asked ,as he realized that his guests were not going to get along in this life time or the next. "I have ramen?"

"Yeah, sure," Mitzutani answered, not looking up from his cell phone. He'd been texting back and forth with his girlfriend for the last fifteen minutes, and it was starting to get old.

"If it's not too much trouble, Kōki, but don't go out of your way on my account," Akashi said. He was also too engrossed to look up, but he was at least working on Furihata's laptop, compiling figures and data into manageable tables.

Furihata brought out his hot plate and kettle and boiled water while watching the sparks of dislike crackle between the two men. _Why did I invite them to my room,_ Furihata thought.

"It's almost ready, wrap up what you're working on," Furihata told them.

"I'm gonna go out for a smoke real quick," Mitzutani said, taking his phone, and his attitude, out of the small room. Akashi finished up the last chart, put the laptop aside, and laid back on the carpet, allowing the tense muscles of his lower back to settle downward. He sighed.

"Try to get along with him, we're almost done," Furihata said, as he watched Akashi's eyes flutter closed.

"I haven't throttled him yet, perhaps you should consider that 'getting alone.'"

Akashi's eyes opened and he looked up and back as he heard Furihata try to stifle a laugh.

"Thank you for laughing," Akashi said. "Most people would have misunderstood that as a threat."

Furihata laughed even harder.

"Most people don't bother getting to know the real you, do they Emperor?" Furihata quelled his laughter enough to speak. "Which ramen do you want? Beef garlic, chicken tempura, or pork curry?"

"You two should choose first, I don't want that to be an argument as well," Akashi said.

"It doesn't matter to me, I like them all, and frankly, if Mitzutani were to leave, we'd get more work done."

"I'm sure I can persuade him to leave," Akashi chuckled.

The sound of that laughter gave Furihata pause a some small electric spark ran up his spine. Akashi was... different from what he'd first suspected - more open and at the same time more vicious - but that didn't make him any less intense.

"Where is the closest bathroom?" Akashi asked.

"Down the hall, on the left."

"Excuse me then," Akashi said. He stood, put his shoes back on, and left the room.

* * *

When he returned, the door to the room was cracked open, and he stopped as he heard heated voices coming from within.

"He's a fucking psychopath, Furihata," Mizutani growled. "And where does get off calling you by your first name?"

"That's not funny. We've done ninety percent of the work while you text with your girlfriend. And if you're willing to antagonize someone you find that frightening, maybe you should take a closer look at yourself, Mizutani," Furihata shouted back.

"For your information," Akashi said, in a barely audible whisper at Mizutani's shoulder. "I was diagnosed with a form of Dissociative Disorder known as Depersonalization Disorder. It means I'm a neurotic, not a psychotic."

Mizutani froze as he heard the detached voice so close in his personal space.

"If you're going to name call, you should be more precise," Akashi continued.

After a moment, Mizutani heart began to thump against the inside of his chest, and sweat poured from his brow. Akashi chuckled darkly, turned, and took his seat again on the carpet.

"I've got go," Mizutani stuttered. He pushed all this things into his backpack and fled from the room.

"Um, well, that was awkward," Furihata said. "So, which ramen do you want?"

"Which ever one you like the least," Akashi answered, looking up at his host with calm eyes.

Furihata gave him the beef bowl while taking the pork for himself, and then served them the tea Akashi had brought earlier.

"You know he's going to tell everyone about this," Furihata said as he settled to Akashi's right and slurped up his noodles.

"I'm counting on that."


	5. Chapter 5

Caution - this chapter has spoilers for the end of "Partners. "Read at your own discretion.

* * *

Akashi was the last person to leave the dorms over the long weekend. He took the final flight off the island that night, so that he would arrive in Tokyo – met by his father's driver – at the latest possible hour.

When he arrived at his home, the servants took his things without looking at him or speaking to him. He went straight to his room. Akashi felt naked without the little black box that Mibuchi had given him weeks ago, but he couldn't risk letting his father know about it. He'd gone to great length to hide it, and his iPod, in the air vent in his surveillance-free bathroom; he had to hope that his father wouldn't have the place searched while he was absent.

* * *

In the morning, he joined his father at breakfast at exactly 7:30 in the morning. He waited in the hallway until the numbers on his cell phone turned over to the precise time. His father wasn't a man who was interested in spending any more time with him than required, and he felt the same way.

"Make sure you visit your mother," his father said, while sipping his coffee and reading the morning edition of the Sankei Shimbun.

"Yes, sir."

"We'll have dinner at Kozue with Fujimaki-sama tonight at eight this evening," his father continued. "Wear the tan three-piece suit, have Hatano prepare it for you. Be ready to leave at 7:15, we'll travel together."

"Yes sir, will the Fujimaki daughter being joining us tonight?" Akashi asked.

"Not everything I do is about you, Seijūrō. Your arrogance and ego will be your downfall."

"Yes, father, thank you for the correction," he answered in a dry monotone that imitated his father's normal speech pattern. In reality, Akashi was relieved. If this wasn't another attempt at an arranged marriage, he would only be expected to present the "perfect son" image, and not the strange hybrid of that and the "perfect husband."

His father left the half-drank coffee and tossed his paper onto the table. He left without a word.

* * *

Akashi decided it was best to get the meeting with his mother over as early in the day as possible, and then spend the rest of the day working on his the revisions to his economics report.

"Akashi-sama is having a good day. Please don't upset her," Chiwa-san, the caretaker, said upon his arrival at the separate cottage off the main house that was the living quarters of Akaski Shimamura.

"I will do my best," Akashi said, nodding to the old woman who'd been his mother's constant companion for these last nineteen years.

Akashi stepped out of his shoes, removed all loose and sharp items from his pockets, and went through the door that led to his mother's private rooms. She was dressed and her hair was neat today; she must be having a good day for that to be the case.

"Excuse me," Akashi said from the doorway. She looked up from her work and smiled.

"Would you like to see my picture?" she asked him.

"Of course," he said, and took a seat beside her.

As she picked up the paper, crayons went rolling in every direction; she giggled.

"This is me," she pointed to the red stick figure character on the paper. "And this is mommy and daddy and Uncle Shiro."

"Who's this?" he pointed to the last figure, a dark shadowy blob that hovered above the other colorful characters.

"That's the bad man," his mother whispered. She reached over and grasped his wrist. "Beware the bad man." The bandages on wrists were crisp, clean, and startlingly white.

"Ah," Akashi said. He understood; he knew very well who that was, after all she'd escaped reality to evade 'the bad man' and left him defenseless and alone. "It's a very pretty picture; you did a very good job."

"Thank you. You can have it," she giggled and preened at her son, coquettish and silly. He folded the paper in half, and half again, and then placed it in his breast pocket. Akashi then knelt and gathered together the loose crayons, putting them back into easy reach.

Seemingly having forgotten about her visitor, she pulled a fresh piece of construction paper from the pile and began scribbling images on it as well. Akashi walked around the room, inspecting the drawings she'd taped to the walls. In every one of them a black presence invaded the otherwise whimsical images.

Everything in the room was soft and rounded. There were no sharp edges, no glass; it was a child-proof room, for a child-like woman.

"This is you," she said, suddenly appearing behind Akashi with a new drawing. She shoved it into his chest, and then dropped it as she danced back. "You are very handsome, but you'd be more so if you smiled."

He didn't answer right away, after all the words that sprang to his mind, weren't kind. Instead, he looked at the picture: a round red face with two-toned eyes and a frown.

"It's well done," he said, causing her to smile more.

"Do I know you?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "You remind me of a boy I once loved. Are you related to him?"

"No," Akashi said, forcing his mouth into an imitation of a smile. "I don't believe we've met before. My name is Seijūrō, it is an honor to meet you."

Akashi's mother tittered and held out her hand.

"I'm Shimamura," she said, biting her lip and looking pleased. "I do hope you will come visit me again."

"It will be my pleasure," he said, bowing over her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.

He left the cottage feeling worse than usual. It didn't matter how many time he visited her, she wouldn't remember him, or his name. There was never even a spark of recognition, only the vague comparison to the man his father use to be, her love for that man, and the half-articulated come-hither smiles that turned his stomach. Like his father's example, most days he considered his mother dead, and if asked, he always spoke of her in the past tense. _My mother was a classical trained dancer or my mother spoke French when she was a girl. _That woman in that isolated, padded room, wasn't his mother. She was just another scar on his already blighted life.

* * *

Murasakibara was one of the few friends Akashi was encouraged to spend time with. The family was well-positioned, if not wealthy, and he knew for a fact that his father paid his giant friend large sums of money to report on him, but that suited him just fine.

"Ehh, I can't decide," Murasakibara mumbled as he looked over the menu. "Order for me."

Akashi chuckled, for a man who so loved food, he was incredibly lazy.

"What are you in the mood for then, at least give me some guidance?"

"I want everything, that's why I can't decide, Aka-chin, I trust you, and there isn't a bad thing on the menu," the man across the table whined.

This was their restaurant, the place they chose whenever they came together, and it was here that Murasakibara was training as pastry chef. The tasting menu, of which Akashi ordered for them, cost in excess of ¥20,000, not counting the beverage service. When he'd arrived, the host had asked for his cell phone, and other portable electronic devices, and he'd handed them over willingly. The food was excellent, but this was the reason he loved this restaurant; this place valued privacy almost as much as he did, and valued an undisturbed meal even more than Murasakibara.

As they sat at the table, enjoying the first course and paired wine, Murasakibara motioned to the package set off to the side of the table.

"Is that for me?"

"Yes, Atushi, it's a signed first addition of _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_. It came up for auction a few weeks ago, and I thought it would be a fitting present to celebrate your internship here."

"That couldn't have been cheap," Murasakibara chuckled. "What will you buy me when I tell you my next piece of good news?"

"It was… an appropriate cost, or so I've been assured. What have you to report? I suppose the reward will have to be commensurate to the degree of 'good news.'"

"I've been accepted to the Culinary Institute of America; I begin Baking and Pastry Arts in the Fall semester," Murasakibara grinned, his cheeks almost as red as Akashi's hair.

"Congratulations, Atushi. Which campus?"

"New York, Singapore doesn't have the courses I want."

"First Shintarō, and now you, all escaping to New York. I envy you."

"I saw Mido-chin when I went for the interview; I stayed with them actually. He and Taka-chin are revoltingly cute, but they have a nice apartment. It made a nice _escape_," he said, lingering over the last word. He took a long drink of his wine, cleared his throat and continued. "They took me to Maze for diner one night, to Les Halles on Park Avenue the next, and to a dozen pastry places over the course of three days. I can't wait to go back."

"I might visit you in New York someday."

"I would hate you forever if you didn't."

"And Tatsuya?"

"He's going to study nursing and play basketball for Mount Saint Mary's College, about twenty miles away."

The first course was cleared away and the second arrived.

"When will you leave?" Akashi asked.

"July. Classes don't begin until August, but we'll stay with Mido-chin and Taka-chin until then, getting acclimated to the city."

"Excellent, as for your reward, what would you like? Shall I set up a scholarship for you?"

"That's too much, Aka-chin, but I'd like a good quality bicycle for getting around the city…"

"Consider it done. You should also ask my father for a larger bribe for the contents of this conversation, after all, this will be the last time he'll be able to make you that offer."

"You'd have to give me so good dirt to pass along, otherwise he won't pay."

"There's a list of things with hidden inside the cookbook already," Akashi said.

"But is there anything worth the money?" Murasakibara smiled.

When Akashi senior had approached him, almost six years ago to spy on his son, Murasakibara had seen the potential in the situation. At first it was small sums, simple bribes to keep tabs on his captain, and then later it turned to much larger amounts that paid for his massive snack addiction. He'd told Akashi about the arrangement immediately and only funneled information that had been cleared through Aka-chin.

"Tell him, that I had very little appetite, and that after much cajoling, I admitted that there was a girl."

"Is there really?" Murasakibara asked, momentarily forgetting about the foie gras on his fork.

"Of course not. I can't escape with someone in tow," he scoffed.

"True, true, I hadn't thought of that."

"They'll be time enough for romance once I find brighter shores."

"Soon, Aka-chin, soon. Bide your time. Give me time to get established other side of the world, Mido-chin, is waiting to help as well."

"Excellent Atushi, I am nothing, if not patient."

* * *

If you happen to be a fan of "Gentlemen, Place Your Bets," please visit my profile page and take my poll. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter is dedicated to Sorariru.

* * *

"You run every morning," Akashi said, standing behind Kōki's shoulder after class one afternoon, as the other was packing up his notebook and saying goodbye to Mitzutani.

"Eek," Kōki squeaked, "Akashi-kun, you've got to stop sneaking up on people… unless of course you're trying to intimidate me." Kōki pointedly put one hand flat out to the scary redhead and put his other on his chest, over his heart, and refused to look at Akashi until his heartbeat slowed to safe rhythm.

"I was not attempting to 'intimidate you;' I was simply stating a fact."

"Yeah, like a freakin' stalker. How about: 'do you run?' Or something less creepy?" Mitzutani suggested.

"Can we assume I will always be creepy and move on to the rest of this conversation?" Akashi answered Mitzutani's question with another question.

"You could actually have friends if you gave basic courtesy a chance, but you don't want to change do you?" Mitzutani sneered.

"My running partner," Akashi continued as if Mitzutani hadn't spoken again, "he was injured, and will be unable to run for the rest of the semester. I saw you starting your run as I was finishing up the other morning. You go to breakfast before running, I assume, by your start time, and I go afterward, but perhaps we could change our schedules and train together."

"I, uh, no I don't have the breakfast option on my meal plan. I just get up and run," Kōki answered. He wasn't sure why he was allowing Akashi to get away with his arrogant, ill-manner conversation, but somehow the strange man before him reminded him, in a good way, of his former teammate, Kuroko. They weren't the same in any discernible way, but their awkwardness…

"I like to sleep in Akashi-kun, so I don't run until 8:00."

Akashi stared at him.

"Then we'll split the difference. I'll meet you at your dorm at 7:45." Akashi didn't wait for an answer; he simply turned and left.

"Who does that guy think he is?" Mitzutani asked, not even bothering to wait until the subject of his complaint had moved a few centimeters away.

"He's the Emperor," Furihata whispered, as a slight shiver ran up his spine.

* * *

Furihata woke up fifteen minutes earlier the next morning and considered what he should wear. It wasn't that he wanted to impress Akashi, but somehow his normal, shabby running sweats seemed… a little beneath his "new" running partner. What would people say if the heir to the Akashi Corporation was seen slumming with him?

He choose a green Hokkaido University t-shirt his sister had bought him once he'd been accepted to the school, a pair of gray track pants, and its matching jacket that he'd worn while in high school. He picked his best pair of basketball shoes, and had barely made it down to the lobby before his cell phone rang.

"Are you ready?"

"I'm looking at you Akashi; have a little more faith."

Akashi looked up to see Furihata come through the inner doors and out into the cold Sapporo morning.

"I didn't intend…," Akashi began, but he felt the vibration of the black box in his pocket, and he dropped the thought and began to jogging away from the building. Furihata shrugged and followed. Once they reached the park, the vibration turned intermittent, and then stopped altogether.

"So, um, see any good movies lately?" Furihata asked when the silence went from uncomfortable to unbearable. The box in Akashi's pocket was still and silent and had been for some time.

"I don't have time for such frivolities," Akashi answered, his breath steady and even.

"Oh," Furihata wheezed. "Then what do you like to do for fun?"

"How much?" Akashi asked, quietly with a growing edge of disdain in his voice.

"How much what? I'm an extrovert, I feel uncomfortable in silence. If we're going to be running partners –"

Akashi grabbed Furihata by the front of this jacket and slammed the slightly shorter boy into a nearby tree. Seconds ticked by and all Furihata could do was stare at Akashi's pulsing golden eye, and its hazy, unfocused red neighbor.

"How much does my confidence cost? How much did he offer you to spy on me?" Akashi growled. Furihata was overwhelmed by the smell of dark, bitter coffee on Akashi's breath, as the Emperor leaned his weight against him.

"Akashi-kun!" Furihata sputtered, as he scrabbled with one hand at the fist clenched against his throat. With the other hand, he fumbled at the bark behind his back. "You're scaring me, Akashi-kun, please calm down, and tell me what this is all about."

Akashi made no answer. Even with the constant metronome of his heart slamming painfully inside his ribs, Furihata couldn't concentrate on the passage of time. _Aren't I supposed to see images of my life passing before my eyes?_

"If no one paid you to spy on me, then why?" Akashi asked, as his grip on the front of Furihata's jacket eased subtly.

"Why?" Furihata's laugh was a stuttered and broken thing. "Because I thought we were friends."

"Friends." Akashi repeated the word. "Friends?"

"Yes, friends, Akashi-kun, aren't we friends?"

The pulse in Akashi's left eye ebbed, then faded away, and the focus in his right eye was startlingly clear.

"I apologize, Kōki," Akashi whispered. He dropped his hands, straightened Furihata's jacket, and then stumbled back until he collapse butt first onto the cold, dead grass.

At first, Furihata didn't move, just watched Akashi as a he would have watched a wounded, feral animal.

"I'll accept your apology, if you'll tell me what this was all about? Who would pay me to spy on you? And why?"

The long, shuddering breath that escaped from Akashi, was the first sign of weakness he's shown in front of anyone, much less a person who willingly called him a friend. Murasakibara, Reo, they'd both witnessed Akashi's father's abusive 'love' first-hand; he had no need to tell them he was trapped like a zoo tiger caught behind glass, inches away from freedom and a savage escape. But Furihata wanted answers, and after the foolish tantrum, he deserved them.

Akashi looked up, focusing on the other man's pale face.

"My father…" he began, and as Furihata's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, he quickly decided the truth wasn't the right answer. "…he has many enemies. They've approached my 'friends' before, and I only find out about it after they've passed along some embarrassing piece of information that could be used to make me, and by association, my father, look bad."

"You're not kidding," Furihata asked as he approached Akashi, slowly, making no sudden moves.

"Sit," Akashi ordered, then soften his tone, "if you want."

Furihata sat beside Akashi, making sure their shoulders touched. Akashi, he'd correctly guessed, wasn't the kind to be comforted by large, demonstrative gestures, but when he felt the redhead lean into him, he knew he'd found an acceptable way of showing his concern.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Years," Akashi said.

"Why haven't you notified the authorities?"

_I can't tell anyone the truth; not even you..._

"I mean, it's got to be illegal and –"

"It's not just bribing my friends. I've been followed; I've found listening devises and cameras in my room; I hear clicks on my phone calls; I'm sure my computer is compromised."

"That's why you asked to borrow mine that first time we talked?"

"Yes," Akashi said. The guilt he felt at lying to Furihata was tempered by the relief that washed over him as he confessed his suspicions out loud for the first time.

"Again, I have to ask: why don't you go to the police?"

"Because this way, if I know how they are keeping tabs on me, I can control the flow of information."

Akashi pulled the black box from his pocket and fingered it like one of Midorima's lucky items. _I can tell Kōki, can't I?_ The box began to vibrate in his palm, and he leapt up, as if it had delivered a shock to him.

"Come on, we've been in one place too long; I can't take the chance of being observed in such a state," Akashi said, and then continued running down the path. Furihata caught up to him by the time the box stilled again.

"What should I do?"

"About what?" Akashi asked.

"If they offer me money? Should I take it and feed them false information, or should I just say no?"

"It would be safer for you to say no and walk away from me."

"But that's not something a friend would do," Furihata countered. "Besides, I could totally use a little cash. I've been wanting to upgrade my copy of Photoshop and Illustrator."

Akashi looked sideways at Furihata. _He always stands to my right side, doesn't he? Interesting._

"Do as you like, but don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

Author's notes: I just want to take a moment to thank all of my readers for your support. Every time I get comments, a reviews, or a PMs, it gives me encouragement to write the next chapter


	7. Chapter 7

On the fifth day as running partners, a Sunday morning, Furihata was acting strangely. He was quiet, a tad moody, and constantly looking over his shoulder.

"Kōki, watch where you are going," Akashi snapped, irritated by the other man's inattentiveness. "What could possibly be so interesting behind you?"

"I feel like someone's following us," Furihata panted.

"You should trust your instincts," Akashi told him. "We've had a tail for about a kilometer now."

Furihata looked over his shoulder again.

"Eyes forward," he said, pushing Furihata around until he was looking in the direction they were running. "You won't see them, don't bother looking"

"Then how do you know…"

"I just do," Akashi said, and then increased their pace. Furihata, after less than a week was able to keep up without too much effort.

"You don't have psychic superpowers, Akashi-kun; you can't just know," Furihata sighed.

"No, but I have experience. When I was nine, a former family retainer kidnapped me, and held me for ransom for six hours –"

"That's, that's awful, Akashi-kun," Furihata said, looking sideways at Akashi.

"Once I was returned," Akashi, continued as if Furihata hadn't interrupted, "my father hired a security consultant to tutor me in surveillance detection, small arms use, and defensive driving."

"You were driving at nine?" Furihata's eyebrows flew up.

"Yes, and firing guns, but that's not the point. I was trained to know when someone is following me, and how to shake them off, if necessary."

"You don't think that's necessary right now?"

"No, we aren't doing anything worth reporting," Akashi said. His word were so nonchalant that Furihata was confused.

"Oh," Furihata said, his voice oddly small.

"I warned you, you should have walked away."

"I...," Furihata said.

"In your graphic design work…" Akashi said, deciding to change the subject before Furihata saw the wisdom in that statement and took his advice. "Have you ever recreated a damaged document?"

"Yeah, in fact, that's sort of how I got started. I took a badly aged photograph of my grandparents and restored it for their 50th wedding anniversary. They said it looked like the day it was taken." Furihata had learned in the last few days that Akashi never took the same path through the park two days in a row. Even after a week, Akashi was still finding new parts of the park. Today, they ran past a small playground, where exhausted mothers and their small exuberant offspring played.

"Could I entice you to take on a small job for me?"

"Probably. What is it? How badly is it damaged? When would you need it?"

"It's a letter that was accidentally shredded."

"Cross cut or strip?" Furihata wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. It was getting colder now, and if the gray clouds to the east were any indication, it would begin snowing soon.

"Cross cut."

"Wow, that would take… just wow, Akashi. I could maybe work on something like that over the summer, but it would be time-consuming and expensive."

"I have all the pieces," he assured Furihata, "And I've taped them back together in the correct order. All I need is someone to clean it up."

"It must be an important letter to go to all that trouble."

"It is. It was a recruitment letter from the LA Clippers."

"What?" Furihata asked, his feet slamming to a stop. "Isn't that the team with the racists owner?"

"Yes, but I got it before all the controversy," Akashi grimaced. "Don't stop running, it's suspicious."

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry. Can I see the letter? I'd be able to give you a better assessment if I could see and feel it," Furihata offered.

"Yes, I can bring it to your room on the pretense of studying."

"Pretense? I know you're paranoid, _and_ someone is actually watching you, but isn't that extreme?"

"If I am seen with your socially, that is other than running and for school work, you'll come under scrutiny. Send me an email sometime tomorrow asking me to help you with your homework. Then we will have an excuse to meet."

"Ok, Emperor, whatever you say," Furihata laughed.

* * *

Monday night's game was against a familiar face, Kasamatsu Yukio, and his college's team. As they stood, lined up facing each other, Point Guard to Point Guard, Akashi had a fleeting memory of embarrassment in front of this boy…_He's one of those Point Guard Poker Players, yes, that's it._

There were men in the stand, men in suits, and talk about scouts from the JBL abounded among the players. If those men were scouts, Akashi would eat his own gym shorts. They had the look of professional spies, with their salarymen second-hand suits and tinted glasses. Scouts didn't wear earpieces with coiled wire cords.

_But why? What have I done to draw this much attention?_

[Sir, why are there extra men in the stand tonight?] he sent the text to his father as he sat out the first quarter out to observe the opposition.

[There has been a threat against your life. Be grateful and don't get in their way.]

[Thank you, Sir, I appreciate your diligence in this matter.]

_A threat,_ Akashi thought, _against my life? Has Kōki_ _betrayed me already?_

Instead of ruminating about it, Akashi turned his thoughts and attention to the game.

"Akashi-kun, are you ready to be switched in?" the coach asked.

"If the team can gain a twenty point lead before the end of the quarter, I think I will be unnecessary."

* * *

But the team wasn't leading by twenty points at the quarter, and Akashi was switched in and the older, more senior Point Guard left the court with a disgusted sneer on his face.

As he came onto the court, he looked up into the stands, finding Furihata immediately and seeing the sign he held. It read: Akashi is Absolute! Furihata bounced up and down and waved when he saw the redhead's interest was on him. He nodded once, in acknowledgement, and then hyper-focused on what was in front of him. Akashi immediately tackled the largest of the threats on the floor – Kasamatsu Yukio.

"I need Ryōta's email address," Akashi said, while blocking the taller teen's attempts to restart fast and furious.

"It's on his website," Kasamatsu sneered.

"His personal email," Akashi expounded.

"Yeah, I knew that, I'm not stupid, but if Kise hasn't given you that email, then he doesn't want you to have it."

"It is important –"

Kasamatsu's lunge for the ball ended with both of them out of bounds and with Hokkaido in possession of the ball. Akashi stood with the ball in his hand as a court attendant wiped up sweat from a recent player's fall.

"I don't care about your reasoning Akashi. You may have been his first captain, but I'm his best friend. You could take off those ¥30,000 imported basketball shoes, and beat me with one of them, within a centimeter of life even, and I still wouldn't give it to you," Kasamtsu said, with a snarl.

"I like these shoes too much to bloody them," Akashi looked down at his sneakers for a split second._ He's right, they are very nice shoes._ "I will simply crush you on the court instead."

"You can try, Akashi, you can try."

After play resumed, Akashi threw the ball in without making eye contact with the recipient.

"I wonder if Ryōta comprehends what a loyal dog he has in you?" Akashi asked, as he blew passed Kasamatsu. _Dammit, I need that email address. Ryōta is the only one who can provide me with a valid excuse to leave the country. _

* * *

"Thank you for waiting for me," Akashi said, as he came through the locker room and into the hallway leading to the parking lot.

"Sure," Furihata said. "After all, I need help with that homework."

Furihata's face was a confused mass of emotions and his body language was small, withdrawn, and guarded.

"Something the matter?"

"I…, no nothing. I'm just worried about this assignment."

Furihata's grades were sterling and their excuse wouldn't hold up under much scrutiny, so Akashi didn't push. Furihata's dorm was a quick bus ride from the arena and they spent the entire time in conflicted silence.

Furihata opened the door and followed Akashi into the small space.

"I'm sorry, Akashi-kun, about my behavior. We should be celebrating your overwhelming victory, but when I saw the other team –"

He stopped as he watched Akashi pace the length of his room, holding a small, rectangular black box in his hand, sweeping it from left to right as he moved. Akashi gestured that he should continue.

"When I saw the other team walk off the court, not like players and men, but like wounded soldiers returning from war, it reminded me of the 'you' that Kuroko-kun worked so hard to defeat. That wasn't the Akashi-kun I've come to know out there, that was… he was that other guy. The guy who frightens me."

Akashi let out a sigh of half-relief, half-frustration.

"I needed information from Kasamatsu, and he refused to give it to me. I'm not used to being deigned. It made me angry." Akashi squeezed the box in his hand, and dropped his gym bag to the floor. "Can I have something to drink? I'm tired and dehydrated?"

"Help yourself, Furihata said. He came a little farther into the room as Akashi stepped to the mini-fridge at the far end of the room and took the last bottle of Pocari Sweat.

"And you punished him and his entire team for it? Isn't there some other way you could get the information?"

"You remind me of him," Akashi said, then titled his head back and guzzled from the bottle of sports drink. The clear liquid trickled out of the side of his mouth and down his chin, where it dripped onto his chest. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Who?"

"Tetsuya, or at least the him before he learned he was special. You're afraid of me, that's obvious, but you want to be liked so badly you're willing to... what? Try to change me, too?"

"I'm not trying to change you, I just want to understand."

"You're too normal to ever understand," Akashi said, sending yet a familiar chill through Furihata.

"Thanks, I think," Furihata answered, and finally came fully into his own dorm room. "So what was that thing? That black box?"

"It notifies me when they are surveillance device active in the area."

"You thought there were bugs in my room?" Furihata looked around his safe little space, and between the jungle cat pacing inside and the thought of electronic cockroaches in his things, he began to feel queasy.

"I wanted to be sure."

"There's nothing here then?"

"No," Akashi said. He smiled weakly. "That's a good thing, Kōki."

"The letter?" Furihata asked, switching on his desk light. He moved his pencil cup from one edge of the desk to the other, then gathered up all his Prismacolor pens and shoved them into the drawer.

"Hmm?" Akashi hummed, for once his mind wasn't on the subterfuge of his life. It was quiet here, the only noise being Furihata's breath and the droning hum of the florescent lights, both of which lulled Akashi into a moment of contentment from which he wasn't ready to retreat.

"The letter you wanted me to work on. You did bring it, right?"

"Of course," Akashi sighed and put the empty bottle of Pocari into the trash bin. He took up his gym bag and dropped it with a thud onto the counter where he riffled through and pulled forth an enormous Art History textbook. He removed the dust jacket, grabbed a knife from Furihata's dish drainer, and used it to peel back the cover of the book. He slid free a plastic sleeve holding the incredibly mangled document.

He held it out, one hand supporting the document from below, and with the other hand, barely touching the top of the sleeve with his fingertips. Furihata took it, just as gingerly.

_Congratulations Mr. Akashi!_

_We are proud to announce that your hard work and natural skill has led us to offer you a place for the oncoming season on the starting line-up of the Los Angeles..._

"Kami-sama," Furihata swore.

"I know, it's in terrible condition," Akashi sighed, "but is there anything you can do?"

Furihata looked up from the letter, blinked hard twice, and shook his head quickly to regain focus.

"Why are you even still here?" Furihata asked, his mouth continued to move, as if he had more to say, but couldn't form the words properly.

"Because I am an Akashi," he answered. His golden eye pulsed once, showing the depth of the emotion behind those loaded words.

It wasn't toward that eye, that Furihata looked, it was to the red one, the one that didn't scare him.

"You should have gone," Furihata said.

"I wanted to, I still want to," Akashi let the words flow off his tongue, knowing that he shouldn't, that he could never put that particular genie back in its bottle. _You can't trust anyone_, he thought, _but I want to trust him. _"Can you restore it?"

"I'm not sure...," Furihata said, and took it over to the light to closer inspect it. He leaned one hand on the desk. "But I may be able to recreate it. Would that be good enough?"

_It may have to be,_ Akashi though, as the little nervous twitch below his right eye jumped. Akashi followed him over to the desk and with their heads together, they stared at the piece of paper.

"Yes," he said, out loud. "I just want it for my scrapbook."

"Truthfully, Akashi-kun," Furihata said, looking straight into the intense eyes so close to his, "why didn't you jump at this offer? A few years in American, a fantastic career, and then taking over the family business when you're older, right? That's the dream, man, the dream!"

"I have to do what is expected of me," Akashi said, _because if I don't... No, I have to, if I ever want to be able to escape him._

Although Furihata could not hear Akashi's inner dialogue, he saw it clearly on that pale, sad face.

"Do you always do what's expected of you?" Furihata asked, looking away.

"That's a foolish question," Akashi said. He stood and stretched, up and backward, just a little to combat the stiffness settling in his lower back.

"Alright, what about a timeline? When would you like this done?" Furihata asked as he continued to bend over the document, inspecting the mosaic of colors and letters that Akashi had somehow put back together like some sort of miniature puzzle. It was impressive work.

"Sooner, rather than later," Akashi said, looking for a place to sit. His eyes grazed the bed, then settled on the floor. "Do you mind if I sit a while, the adrenaline of the game is wearing off, and my legs are tired."

"Please, sit on the bed, it will be more comfortable Akashi-kun," Furihata gestured, without looking up.

"When we are in private, when we know that no one else is listening, will you call me Seijūrō?" Akashi asked as he perched on the edge of the bed, and then gave up on decorum, and flopped back onto it so that he was staring up at the ceiling.

Furihata heard the question, heard the obvious whoomf of a body falling into the mattress, and he turned, startled at the combination of the two.

"Um, sure Seijūrō-kun," he said, wondering if he'd heard him correctly.

* * *

Author's notes: Btw, if you don't know who the Point Guard Poker Players are, you may want to read "Gentlemen, Place Your Bets" and "Partners," as all of my Kuroko no Basuke fics are from the same 'verse and build on each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Finding the perfect paper was going to be the biggest challenge in recreating Akashi's document. Furihata didn't buy, not for one second, that Akashi wanted the letter for his 'scrapbook.' People like Akashi didn't need to keep their accomplishments in a book, everyone knew about them, and he certainly didn't appear to have a single sentimental bone in his body.

The letter was dated in March of last year, but it was already January and the season was in full swing. It wasn't even timely anymore, but for some reason having an intact copy of the letter was important to Akashi, and after seeing what he did when angered – even now, post-Kuroko's intervention – he was scared to the core about what the stoic redhead would do if he failed.

"I'm not just scared," Furihata admitted to his two new goldfish, the only other inhabitants of the otherwise empty room. "Tsk, he's so damn confusing!" Furihata groaned, pulling at his hair. He dropped his head to the desk and wished, not for the first time, that Akashi had found interest in someone else all those weeks back.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, turning his head to the side and watching the two small fish circle each other in the half globe bowl. The bigger, more aggressive of the two was a flashy gold color, whom he'd named "Fusion." The golden fish loved to nip at the smaller, fiery red fish, whom he'd named "High Risk." Only someone familiar with the Pantone color swatches would have gotten the strange English names, but they were his fish, and he liked the obscure monikers.

"I'm hungry. Let's have dinner and think about paper stock after our bellies are full."

Furihata fed the fish the little granules the old lady at the fish shop had promised would keep them satisfied and make their colors more brilliant. He watched them eat as he waited for the water to boil for his cup soup.

"I knew this would be a hard job, Risk, but come on, there are forty different kinds of paper from this one company," he said, as he sat in front of the bowl, chin propped up in his hands.

"You're right, Fusion, I said we'd think about this later. Maybe I should get you a little plant or a cave. Would you stop picking on Risk if you had more to occupy your time?"

When the last noddle was slurped, Furihata's attention once again fell to the damaged letter that Akashi had entrusted him to keep safe. When he wasn't working on it, he kept it hidden among the pages of the sketch book he took with his everywhere he went. It was too important to his new friend, to do otherwise, as Akashi's paranoia rubbed off on him.

The masthead was easy to recreate and he started in Photoshop from the many wonderful free files he found for the Clippers and then been subtly altered it to make it match the original letter precisely. He switched to Illustrator, clicked on the scaling tool and rulers and lined it up exactly as it had been on the 8x10 sheet of paper. The font was a standard one, and after playing with sizing and scaling, he'd been able to copy the text word for word and have it flow across the sheet of paper without any problem.

But again, it came down to the paper stock. Furihata had managed to track down the paper maker by the water mark: Southworth. It was a good quality paper that seemed to be fairly popular, and was available on the US version of Amazon for about ¥3,000. For an additional ¥1,000 he could have a ream of the paper in six weeks.

"Will that be soon enough, Akashi-kun?" he thought aloud. It truly sucked that he couldn't casually contact him tonight to ask.

* * *

"It's too cold to run," Furihata whined into his cellphone when it rang at 7:47 am. He was still toasty in his bed, with the heater turned all the way up. "We agree not to run if the temperature was dangerously low."

"You'll warm up quick enough, but I am standing in -8° weather waiting on you. I would appreciate it if you were to hurry, before I get frost bite."

"How many centimeters of snow did we get last night?"

"At least another 150, thus my numb feet."

"Come inside the lobby. I'll be down in five minutes."

* * *

"I don't like the smell of your dorm's lobby," Akashi said, as Furihata came down the stairs, one minutes earlier than he'd promised.

"Neither do I, but what do you expect when it's an all-male dorm?"

"I expect better hygiene."

"Not everyone is as perfect as you, Akashi-kun," Furihata said. As he opened the door, the wind pulled it from his hand, causing it to slam and punctuating Furihata's words so he seemed angry, instead of tired and frustrated. He was _frustrated_ at the project he'd taken on in addition to his school work. He was _frustrated_ that he allowed Akashi to order him around. He was even more _frustrated_ to admit it didn't really bother him that much, being bossed around.

"Let's just get this over with so I can come back and have some nice warm porridge."

"I'll treat you, there's this interesting little American dinner that just opened up on the other side of the park. I've been wanting to try it."

"American food?" Furihata asked, his interest piqued.

* * *

"How's the progress coming?" Akashi-kun asked, as they blazed a new trail through the freshly fallen snow.

"Are we…,"

"Yes, as safe as we can be," Akashi answered, understanding the question right away.

"Good," Furihata exhaled. "I hate all this cloak and dagger business. The actual document wasn't hard to reproduce, but I've run into a challenge with the paper."

"Oh? Tell me."

"I've found a supplier for the original paper stock, but it's going to have to come from America and I'm not one hundred percent sure of which of their lines it comes from. If you want it perfect, I'll need to order three different reams, and have them shipped here."

"How much money do you need?"

Furihata nodded, his instincts were right, this wasn't just a vanity job.

"Somewhere between ¥12,000 and ¥15,000," he estimated.

"I'll give you cash, if you don't mind, after breakfast. I can leave the ordering of it up to you?"

"Sure, what do you want me to do with the excess paper?"

"Can you use it for something else? A project of some kind?"

"That's a lot of money for doodle paper," Furihata laughed.

Akashi actually allowed a ghost of a smile to reach his mouth and eyes. Furihata felt warm, but ignored it.

"It would be wasted with me, consider it a bonus. How long will it take to arrive?"

"The estimate said six to eight weeks."

Akashi sighed. _Eight weeks puts us at the end of March, but the longer we drag this out, the more likely we will be discovered.__  
_

"Were there other mailing options?"

"I think so, but they were very expensive."

"I have the cash, I prefer not to wait," Akashi said, and picked up the pace to ward off the double cold feeling that threatened to engulf him - the cold from outside and the cold that was always slowly creeping into his heart.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: You may have noticed I changed the rating of this story. It is because of the themes in this chapter. The trigger warning for this chapter is mentions of past child abuse.

* * *

His father was in town; he'd flown in this morning, but Akashi had many very good reasons to not see him until much later in the day. He had classes, Shogi Club during his lunch hour, and two hours of basketball practice after his last class of the day.

He'd showered and dress in a fresh, clean suit that cost more than his dorm room rented for by the month. He'd had a haircut last week when his father sent him a message saying his presence would be expected at the dedication of the new Akashi Foundation Center for International Business building. He looked flawless, as expected. The billion yen contribution to the school was just another power play for his father. The school administration, board of trustees, faculty, etcetera, were simply another layer of surveillance.

The entire school turned out for the ribbon cutting ceremony and Akashi stayed at his father's side like a dog called to heel. He bowed at the right people, answered the questions of the reporters with officially memorized Akashi Foundation propaganda, smiled when the cameras were shoved in his face, and said all the right words. His perfect son act was so well honed that he even knew how to keep his notoriously difficult father happy.

* * *

Akashi's stomach dropped when he saw his father chatting amicably with Furihata.

"How do you know my son?" Akashi senior asked. The conversation was still in its infancy, so he needed to think quickly and get the two as far apart as quickly as possible.

"Oh, we're classmates and friends," Furihata said.

_Fool, why couldn't you have left it as classmates? I have hundreds of those!_ Akashi did the only thing he could think of, and threw his drink at Furihata's back.

Furihata shrieked as the ice cold beverage quickly soaked through his shirt.

"Furihata, I apologize, the glass was wet and my hand slipped," Akashi explained while his father looked on, annoyed, but unruffled.

"Excuse me Sir, Akashi-kun, I'll…," he said, and wandered away.

"Seijūrō, who was that? And why did you want him away from me so badly that you ungracefully poured a glass of wine on him?"

"He's just another one of those self-serving groupies who wants to ride the Akashi shirt tails…" Akashi began playing Furihata's importance down, when he heard a garbled stutter and looked over his shoulder to see that the very man in question had already returned and overheard his cruel words.

Furihata said nothing, but his trembling lip and the sudden moistness in his eyes spoke volumes. Furihata turned and ran into the crowd. Akashi's eyes followed him.

"Seijūrō," Akashi-sama said, and his son couldn't help but smell flames in those words.

"That was unconscionably rude of me, you are correct father."

"I don't care who he is, you can't let him have that opinion of the Akashi family. I expect you to correct this _misunderstanding, _Seijūrō."

With permission to peruse, Akashi went after Furihata.

* * *

It was too cold to be without his jacket as the wet spot on the back of his shirt reminded Furihata, when he burst through the art gallery's doors and into the dark, miserable night. He stopped for a moment and considered going back in for his coat, but between the tears that doggedly kept coming no matter how hard he wiped them away and the shame he felt for trusting someone like Akashi… he put one foot in front of the other and made his way toward the bus stop.

Akashi had stopped for his coat, it was after all, just above 0° and he'd grabbed Furihata's as well, when he saw the stupid boy run out into the night unprepared.

"Will you let me explain?" Akashi asked, as he stood behind Furihata, watching the boy shiver.

"Fuck you," Furihata said, without looking back. He stamped his feet and rubbed both hands down his arms, trying to warm himself up.

"At least take your coat," Akashi said.

Furihata peeked over his shoulder and saw Akashi holding out his coat. Akashi saw the tears, freezing on Furihata's face and sighed.

"I don't want anything from you, even my own coat," Furihata snapped.

Akashi unfolded the coat and placed it over Furihata's shoulders. The black box in his pocket was vibrating, but if he left it like this, he would regret it more than the loss of the letter that was still in Furihata's possession.

"Please, let me accompany you back to your dorm room," he whispered hot breath into Furihata's bright red ear. "I will explain everything. For the sake of whatever this is between us, hear me out."

Furihata, shaking as his body temperature plummeted, angrily put his arms into the sleeves of the coat and gave no answer.

* * *

When they got to the dorms, it was Furihata's intention of leaving Akashi behind at the inner security door where he'd be safe from the maddening, irritating, stupid boy who had everything, and thought nothing of everyone else.

_This is just another ploy_, he told himself,_ to make the Akashi family look better. _

Akashi stopped to hold the lobby doors for someone coming out of the building, and Furihata used that moment to get ahead of him and swing the security door open. Akashi, however, was right behind him, wedging a foot between the door and the jam, making it impossible for Furihata to slam the door closed as planned.

"Go home, Akashi, I don't want you here. I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to be your friend anymore. I'll bring all your 'materials' to class tomorrow and that's it. I don't want anything more to do with you," Furihata muttered, his voice soft and indistinct.

Akashi starred at Furihata, the black box humming in his pocket and he did the only thing he could think of to salvage the situation. He took it from his pocket, grabbed Furihata's wrist, forcing him put his hand out, fingers up, and dropped the box onto his palm.

Furihata knew at once what the little black device in his hand was, and by the vibrations traveling down his arm, he knew how dangerous it was for Akashi to be having this conversation in the open. He curled his fingers around the rectangle and considered hurling it down the hallway. That would give him three, maybe four seconds of a head start if he dashed to the stairwell. But then he thought about it…

_Had the box been vibrating in Akashi's pocket all night?_ _Had he said those hateful, horrible things not because he wanted to, but because he was being observed?_

"Three minutes, I will give you three minutes to explain, and if I'm not satisfied, you will leave. You will respect me that much at least," he said, wondering where he found the courage to say those words.

"Thank you," Akashi said.

* * *

As they came in the door, Furihata motioned that Akashi should wait by the door. Furihata paced the length of his room and was gratified to find that the box was silent and still in every nook and cranny.

Akashi took a step forward.

"No, I'd prefer you keep your distance. Stay where you are," Furihata insisted.

Akashi retreated until his back was against the door.

"Three minutes," Furihata said, pushing the stop watch function button on his watch.

"I'm not good at apologies, Kōki," Akashi said, looking down. "And I can't blame this fiasco on anything other than my own self-serving interests. I could say I was trying to protect you, but it all comes back to me. I was trying to protect myself, by keeping our friendship secret. I only have two places I can go where electronic eyes and ears aren't hounding me: my bathroom and your room. By bringing attention to yourself tonight, you've guaranteed that I've lost one of those safe places."

"So, it's my fault that you said those hateful, untrue things about me. You do believe they're untrue, don't you? Two minutes, thirty seconds."

"No, it's not your fault. It's mine. And no, I don't believe the things I told my father," Akashi said, hanging his head.

"You're right, it is your fault. It was your stupid mouth that said those words."

"I panicked when I saw you speaking to my father. I thought you were gone, and I told him what he expected to here."

"It's not like your father's –"

"I lied to you," Akashi said. The words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

Furihata watched as Akashi's inner turmoil was made manifest in his face. The golden eye, the one that so scared him, was subdued and the tears spilled from the red one. He took a step forward, wanting to comfort Akashi, but his natural fear held him at bay.

"You have one minute and thirty seconds to make me believe that anything coming out of your mouth isn't a lie," Furihata said, looking at his watch.

Akashi moved forward just enough to take off his jacket. He threw it to the floor. Then came his suit jacket.

"I lied," he repeated. "I lied to you. It's not my father's enemies that are stalking me."

Akashi loosened his tie and pulled it free, dumping it onto the ground with his coats. Furihata was mesmerized as he watched Akashi unbutton his shirt, pausing only to tug the tails free from his pants.

"Time?" Akashi asked, and Furihata wrenched his eyes from Akashi's strip tease down to the counting numbers.

"One minute," he spoke. He dashed over to the sink and pulled a kitchen knife from the dish drainer. It wasn't particularly sharp, but if Akashi made one step in his direction, he'd be ready.

"Why the hell did I wear cufflinks? Forget it, never mind," he said, obviously talking to himself, and not to shaking boy, holding the knife. Akashi undid his belt, turned around and spread his legs just wide enough to make sure his pants didn't slide down his legs. He pulled his shirt up and let his pants fall enough to show the top of his grey underwear. "Look, Kōki, please, just look. I promise, I will not make a move against you, if you will just look!"

Akashi slumped, his head against the door, and waited with that three inches of back exposed. Furihata crept closed, the knife still posed to strike.

Right above the now stretched down waistband of Akashi's underwear, Furihata saw what it was that the redhead was so desperate to expose. In a neat, orderly line, he saw six small marks, no bigger than a yen coin… no wait, there were more marks, partially hidden by his clothing.

"What? How did…? I don't understand," Furihata stuttered.

"You asked me once, if I always did what was expected of me. The answer is no, and this is what my father does to me when I fail."

The knife dropped from Furihata's fingers, and he didn't even notice as he stepped forward again and stretched out one hand to touch the raised marks on Akashi's otherwise beautiful smooth skin. He pulled back his hand as Akashi flinched.

"Burns." Furihata said. "But how?"

Akashi dropped his shirt tails and righted his pants.

"I'm out of time," he said.

"I believe you, but I don't understand," Furihata said. Akashi re-buckled his belt, but didn't address his undone shirt.

"May I sit? I will explain, if you wish."

Furihata stepped back, and gestured to the bed. Akashi moved slowly, like he was fighting against water to reach the bed, and when he did, he bonelessly sunk down on the mattress. He took something from his pocket and lobbed it underhand across to Furihata who'd sat on the chair at his desk.

"Your _jitsuin_?" Furihata asked as he inspected the cylinder.

"Mine is rather normal, wouldn't you say? It's just a typical family crest, even if it's made of jade. It's nothing special, except for the fact that it is from the Akashi Family. My father has a special _jitsuin_, it's made of metal and when I fail, he heats it up. While we wait, he has me strip. I put my hands on his desk and he measures out precisely where on back he will lay the new 'correction.' Then when the metal has turned red, he puts on gloves and presses the _jitsuin _to the spot he's picked. If I cry out, which is unexpected, he will do it again, and again, and again, until I am silent. I learned after the first time, to be silent."

Furihata stood, moved quickly to the sink, and threw up. He cupped his hands under the running water, drank from them, and then spit into the sink.

"I didn't want to lie to you, Kōki, but my father has controlled every moment of my life, and I will do anything to escape from him. Every time I get close, something happens; usually a 'friend' betrays me. I'm afraid to trust anyone, even you, but I'm going to trust you, Kōki, please tell me I haven't made an error."

"No," he whispers. "No, I'll help you. I'll do anything you need to get away from that sick bastard. Anything. The letter, it's part of the escape, right?"

"Maybe, but again, things are falling apart. I'm hoping that if I can get to America and show them that the letter was… delayed and damaged, that they'll allow me to try out. It's a small hope, but if I make it, if they announce to the world that I am a Clipper, than father will have to 'allow' me to do it, for propriety sake. If I can just get far enough away…"

"Ok, but what about the envelope? Do you still have it?"

"Yes."

"I can distress both the letter and the envelope, but I have to do it to at the same time to make it look real."

"You'll continue to help me?"

Furihata came across the room and took Akashi's face into his hand, and only when he was sure that he had the attention of the stunning red eye, did he speak again.

"Of course I will."


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is dedicated to Kimikissu07 & Fran-anisca Grave for all their wonderful reviews and PMs. Thank you!

* * *

Once Akashi had stopped crying, Furihata eased back and opened his arms, allowing the redhead to decide if he wanted to continue the embrace. Akashi's breath shuddered against Furihata's neck once, twice, and then the other young man pulled away.

"I've got the design work completed, the paper will be here next week, and the distressing won't take long. What else do you have to do?" Furihata asked, hoping the change of subject would help Akashi get himself together.

"I have to get out of the country. Once I'm out of Japan, I will have a small head start. I have enough liquid assets that once I get to the states I can travel under the radar."

"Ok, what's your plan for getting out of Japan?"

"Ryōta, but Kasamatsu made sure that wasn't going to happen," Akashi said, his golden eye flashing dangerously.

"I don't get it. Kise is your friend, isn't he?"

"Ryōta is not an _approved_ friend. My father dislikes his 'wastrel lifestyle,' so I am not allowed to have contact with him."

"Kami-sama," Furihata muttered.

"Exactly. I had Ryōta's contact information, but it 'disappeared' off all of my devices. I asked Kasamatsu for the email; he denied me."

Furihata lunged for the desk and searched through piles of papers. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he darted across the room and grabbed up his coat. He pawed through the pockets and still didn't find what he was searching for. Finally, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Kuroko. I'll call him, he's friends with Kise," Furihata said, and scrolled through his contact list.

Akashi stood and stayed his hand.

"Tetusya and I still aren't on the best of terms," Akashi admitted. His cheeks were still streaked with the trail of his dried tears, and now they turned pink.

"Then I won't tell him the information is for you."

Furihata stepped away and dialed.

"Kuroko! Yeah, long time no talk! Uh huh, how's Kagami? Yeah…"

Akashi tuned out the friendly conversation. Knowing that Furihata would speak lies on his behalf was hard enough to swallow without eavesdropping on the two friends as well. There was a small mirror above the sink, and Akashi turned his attention to his appearance. He washed his face, combed his hair, re-buttoned his shirt and tucked it in. He flicked his head, side to side, and took a deep cleansing breath. He looked normal at least.

Furihata wrote something down and pushed it at Akashi. It was a cell phone number and an email address.

"Yeah, let's get together over the break. I totally want to see everyone! Yeah, good night."

"Next problem?" Furihata asked, looking a little self-satisfied.

Akashi's tired laugh took a little bit of the wind of out his sails.

"The moment you leave this room, my father will have someone break in and search it, possibly even bug it. We have to destroy the letter and remove any traces of it and our dealings from the room."

"He doesn't even know who I am, I hadn't gotten around to giving him my name."

"I said your family name, and you are already known as my running partner. We have to assume he will know, if he doesn't already, which room is yours by the end of the night."

Akashi's phone chimed a message alert. His eyes widen and he stopped breathing.

"You'd better see who it is," Furihata suggestion.

[Have you taken care of the situation?] the message from his father read. Furihata read over Akashi's shoulder.

[Yes, we are having tea. Give me twenty more minutes and I'll join you at the gallery.]

[Twenty minutes, no more.]

[Of course, Sir. I will be with you shortly.]

"You're done with the original letter, yes? Give it to me," Akashi demanded. Furihata took it from the sketch book that was hidden among six other such books in the drawer under his bed.

Akashi put the letter in the sink and began methodically tearing the carefully put together pieces from the tape holding it. The tape went into his pocket.

"Do you have a lighter?"

Furihata found a package of matches in his drawer and they watched as the letter burnt away.

"Your computer files regarding the project. How do you handle them?'

"They live on the cloud. All my work does. I've had too many computers die on me to do otherwise," Furihata said, as he sat down at this desk and woke up the computer.

"I want you to move them off your cloud and put them in my secret one. Here let me access it," Akashi said, turning the keyboard to face him. He typed in the destination, put in an account name and password he'd never admitted having to anyone, and then turned the computer back to Furihata. A few keystrokes later and the files were all copied to their new home.

"Tomorrow make a new anonymous email account from a public terminal. Be paranoid and cover your tracks. Once you give me the new address, I'll send you the username and password for the cloud. You can send back Ryōta's information and we can converse that way. But in the meantime, erase all traces of those files, and any traces that might incriminate you."

"Ok, I can do that," Furihata said. He opened the DOS prompt and typed in c:\format*.*. When the computer asked if he was sure, his finger reached for the key that would wipe his computer.

"What are you doing? Akashi said, putting his hand over Furihata's, coming close to do it.

"I'm reformatting the computer. All my files on are my cloud. All my internet favorites are tied to my browser's log-in. I have all the discs for my programs and operating system. In a few hours, I'll be back up and running. I'll hide Kise's info until then. You go deal with your father. I've got this, Seijūrō. Just be careful, I can't have your back when I'm not there."

Furihata looked up at Akashi and smiled. Akashi then did the stupidest thing he'd ever done in his entire life, but he needed this moment of insane bravery, knowing that he'd more than likely face the heat of his father's anger tonight, and for that reason alone he was stupid and brave. He leaned forward quickly and kissed Furihata. There was only a moment when both set of lips understood and responded to the action, but as Akashi fled the room and dashed down the stairs, that one moment was enough.


	11. Chapter 11

Once Akashi's heart stopped pounding, he realized the little black box, his security blanket, was still in Furihata's room. His step hitched, but he knocked away the sudden panic that threatened his last shred of sanity.

_Forget it_, he snapped at himself and kept moving. _I've lived for 18 years without it; all I have to do is assume the whole world is listening._

Akashi quickened his step and slid in beside his father with two minutes to spare.

"Have you met my son, Seijūrō?" Akashi-sama introduced him to the University's President.

"I haven't had the pleasure," the man said.

"No, Sir, it is my pleasure." His golden eye flashed, as he smiled that vacant, pleasant Akashi family smile.

* * *

Akashi escorted his father to the Mitsuoka Galue that waited to whisk him off to the airport. He stood, ignoring the cold, saying nothing, as he waited for his father to finish speaking to the President, the Dean, and the members of the board of directors who he held perfect Akashi sway over.

There was a special place in his head that the Seijūrō facet of his personality retreated to in situations like this, allowing the Akashi persona to take over. Akashi's razor-sharp attention and inability to feel anything other than hate made him the perfect weapon against his father. Seijūrō recited basketball statistics for every game he ever played in that empty void, and thought only of the warmth Kōki showed him.

He felt his father's stern disapproving gaze, as he held the door open for a bevy of beautiful senpai girls. He bowed from the neck, and spoke vacuous compliments that sent them twittering into the night.

_Does he know about the kiss? _Akashi thought. _He can't know. Calm down, baka, your palms are sweating. Pull it together!_

"Students?" his father asked, as the dignitaries faded away and left the two Akashi's standing in the parking lot.

"Yes, Sir.

"Are their parents positioned?"

"I don't know any of them personally," Akashi answered truthfully. "But it never hurts to leave a good impression, as you've taught me."

"Hmph, during the summer break will work on your vocabulary. Shamelessly flirting with inferior women isn't my idea of a 'good impression.'"

"Yes, Sir, I look forward to your correction."

"As you should, Seijūrō, as you should," his father said, and then stepped into the Mitsuoka Galue. The driver closed the door, and Akashi stood at attention until the car turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared.

* * *

Furihata looked at the bright blue computer screen and made sure all the BIOS settings were correct before he put in the Windows 7 disc and started the installation. While he did that, he went through every piece of paper on his desk.

He didn't want to think about the way his lips still tingled, so he got down to work.

He made a pile of the sketches he'd made of Akashi's document. He added the Clipper's logos and all the test runs he'd printed out. It was a large pile, and it would take a considerable amount of time to burn. They'd been lucky that the smoke detector hadn't gone off the first time. Of all people, he knew that shredded documents could be put back together and his shredder was a simple strip-cut kind. He filled the sink with hot water, and he ripped the colored parts of the document and soaked them. The colors began to bleed almost immediately as he hadn't changed to his high quality ink cartridges for the tests. When the paper had turned a lovely shade of purple, and destroyed the document past saving, he shoved the soppy paper into an empty ramen noddle cups from his garbage.

He put the small text section of the test prints into the shredder, gathered up the scraps, and then put it through again with an old Algebra worksheet. Those pieces he consigned to the flame in the sink. The scraps left over where plain white pieces of paper. He wrote random notes on them: a grocery shopping list written in a blue Primsacolor pen, Mitzutani's phone number in pencil, a recipe, and other things unrelated to Akashi, basketball, or…

_Stop thinking about his lips. Yes, they were incredibly soft, but he was just excited. It may mean nothing. I probably means nothing. Just stop it and get to work!_

He crumpled some of the notes, and threw them in the garbage can under the sink. Others he scattered about the desk.

The computer needed his response and he typed in the serial number and accepted the license agreement before considering what else he would need to destroy.

There was a file on his phone he had to delete. It was a picture from the first game he'd watched Akashi play in Hokkaido. It wasn't an incriminating photograph, it was just a snap shot of the redhead on the court, dribbling the ball with one hand and the other raised calling the play. He'd sent it to his friends and former teammates as a sort of, "look who's at my school," joke. He'd meant to erase it, but it had so far escaped the many times he'd purged his phones of unneeded memory hogs.

He deleted it, and forty or fifty other photos that meant nothing to him, just so that if anyone searched his phone they'd see nothing that would endanger Akashi's escape. The call log showed a few calls from Akashi's cell phone, but erasing those would be meaningless. They were known running partners, and having an occasional call between them was innocuous.

He went through his sketch books and ripped out the page that had doodles made with the Scarlet Lake colored pencil he'd begun carrying with him to class lately. He folded the paper into the bottom of the bag he brought with him when he showered. The paper would disintegrate, given enough hot water, but he didn't want to clog his own pipes.

After Windows finished loading, he installed Chrome and went through all of his bookmarks and added a new ones from every NBA team. The rest of Furihata's bookmarks were completely benign: graphic art links, his school portal, email, a few music-related sites, and not much else.

He reset his browser to automatically open incognito mode whenever it launched. He'd started that years ago when his brother had found a link to porn on his computer and he'd tattled to their parents. It was easier not to have a history living with that rat of a brother, and he'd never changed the default, even after he begun living along; it just wasn't necessary.

He wanted to leave the room; he had to pee, but Akashi's warning about people coming in the moment he left, made him suffer through the painful pressure in his bladder. While MS Office loaded, Furihata went through the emails since the beginning of the semester. There was not a single one from Akashi. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't even know Akashi's email address. He could guess at his school account, since they'd all been assigned one, but he didn't bother.

Once Word had loaded he opened and closed documents leaving a trail of homework assignments in the recent document history. Photoshop and Illustrator would take hours to load, and he really had to pee, so he did a quick search of his room and found one last thing related to Akashi by the fish bowl – the black box.

"Shit," Furihata said, looking at the fish as if maybe they'd have a brilliant idea of what to do next. He didn't even know which dorm Akashi lived in and there was no way he was going back to that party.

_No way! This is bad!_

He pocketed it, and grabbed up his shower bag and cell phone. Before he left, he took three pieces of his literature assignment and placed them randomly about the room. One went under the wheel of his desk chair, another was laid at a specific angle over his keyboard, and the last he put between two layers of clothing in his drawer. He had no idea if he'd be able to tell if they were moved, but it made him feel better to know he was doing… something.

As he locked the door to his room and tried to walk nonchalantly to the bathroom despite the pressure in his bladder, he was acutely aware of the vibration in his pocket.

* * *

Every time he closed he eyes that night, Akashi saw one of two faces, both of which brought him back to fully awake. It went in a pattern. He'd see his father, angry and disappointed by some imagined slight; he would dream of burning flesh, and his eyes would snap open. When he finally got his pulse under control and closed his eyes again, he'd see Furihata in that moment just before he'd leaned in those centimeters and kissed him, then he'd wake with an uncomfortable pressure in his groin. Then he'd see his father's condemnation: repeat, ad nauseum. Finally Akashi chanced it, and got up and went to the bathroom. It would be an anomaly in his routine, but he would visit the school nurse tomorrow and complain of stomach upset, blaming the party's crappy food and cheap alcohol. He closed the bathroom door and retrieved the iPod from its hiding place.

He composed a very simple single line email to Shintarō in New York: [How did you know you were in love with Takao?]

It was way passed his normal time to be online, but he sent it anyway, figuring that he would have a few moments to check it in the morning. As he was about to put it back in its hiding place, he saw the screen flash with a response.

[It was more of a coming to realize that I loved him. We were together so often that when we were apart, I recognized his absence acutely. I tested it and realized it was more of craving to be around him, then an understanding that he was elsewhere. Have you finally found someone?]

[Maybe, I don't know. But I can't afford to have a romance, not even a dalliance, at a time like this. Things are in motion.]

[The spare futon is ready for you, anytime. It will fit two as well as it will fit one.]

[That would be a bit forward, but it is appreciated.]

Akashi's mind settled a little bit as he thought about the fact that there were other faces, other people, and other choices for him.

* * *

They didn't run that morning, Akashi's early morning text said that he had a stomach ache. Furihata ran anyway, since he was awake, and he took the little black box with him. After the first few minutes, he wished he hadn't. The vibration was enough to make him want to cry, but when he returned to his room, and he felt the thing go silent, some of that paranoid terror ebbed away.

He showered again, and then slid open his drawers to put out something to wear. His literature homework was on top of clothing instead of in between the shirts as they had been last night. He looked around the room and the black box continued to be still as he walked the full length.

_Shit, Seijūrō was right, they searched my damn room. _


	12. Chapter 12

Furihata waited until Akashi gave the all-clear signal before he asked the question that had been bouncing around his skull since last night.

"Last night… um… what did that mean?"

"I said many thing last night, Kōki, which are you referring to at the moment?" he asked as they passed the children's playground and continued down yet another new path. The snow on the ground was a few days old and it was slick with ice in many places. Furihata kept a pace behind his running partner and saw instead of his normal fluid movement, Akashi ran stiffly after the question.

"I wasn't talking about what you said… never mind. My room was definitely searched."

"Unsurprising," Akashi said, without looking around. After a few more paces uphill, the tension in Akashi's shoulders eased down to its normal level. Furihata decided to drop the subject... at least for now.

"I've set up my new email, it's 'SneakyChihuahua12.'

"I'll send the information to you tonight, once it is safe."

"Alright."

"The team is going to see the JBL play a practice game against the Levanga Hokkaido. Somehow the manager bought an extra ticket; would you like to join us?"

"When?"

"Saturday night. The game start at 7."

"It won't be, um suspicious if I go?"

"Wear school colors and I'll lend you my warm-up jacket."

* * *

At Akashi's insistence, they meet in the locker room the next afternoon an hour before practice, because he didn't want to be seen at Furihata's dorm for the time being. He'd been there too often lately; it was better to make his visits more random.

The locker room stank like wet towels and body odor; it was a smell that he'd once thought of as quintessentially basketball, but now that he'd put distance between himself and his favorite sport, Furihata just thought the smell was gross.

Akashi was already dressed out for the court and sat on the bench in front of his locker, working his shoelaces nervously. Without looking at him, he handed Furihata a piece of paper enclosed in a plastic sandwich bag.

Once he finally had the envelope in hand, Furihata felt dumb for being so optimistic about his chances of weathering both the new letter and the old envelope at the same time. The white rectangle had been through hell, figuratively. He opened the bag and caught whiffs of coffee, cigarette ash, and ink. He'd tried not to let his disgust show as he carefully took it out of the plastic bag.

"I had to rescue it from the trash in my father's office after he went to sleep. It was there for hours."

"No, no, you did a great job, but I'm just thinking I'll have to go about the task in a different way now." He flipped the envelope over and looked for a watermark. Thankfully there wasn't any. It was just a simple American #10 size, with the Clippers logo in one corner, and Akashi's mailing address in Azabu across the bottom.

"Why?" Akashi asked, looking at the envelop, not the man holding it.

"If I recreate the envelope, it will be easier to match the damage. Then, I'll be able to weather them at the same time. If I use this, I will have to figure a way to recreate just the damage to the letter. It would be next to impossible."

"You can do it, recreate the envelope? How long will it take?"

"Not long. It's a standard cheap envelope. If I get creative, I can use what I have here. As long as a postal inspector isn't examining it, I think we'll be ok."

"A postal inspector?" Akashi's mismatched eyes widened.

"Yes, a letter that is as badly damaged as we need this one to appear – let's face it anything less would have arrived months ago – would have gone through multiple layers of postal inspectors. I'm going to have to recreate their stamps," Furihata said, sighing. "Shit, I just realized, we're committing mail fraud."

"I'm sorry to get you involved in such shady things; if you're uncomfortable –"

"Don't apologize. I've committed to this, to you. I'll get it done."

Akashi looked away, suddenly burdened by the devotion Furihata displayed. He'd never, not once in his life, had any one who would would go this far for him without remuneration. It made him dizzy. He steadied himself, leaning forward to grip the front edge of the bench, on either side of his knees, with both hands.

Furihata, on the other hand, had witnessed sacrifice firsthand with his friends, with his senpai, Kiyoshi, and with Kagami and Kuroko. To him, helping Akashi, even as he ignored the butterflies that appeared in his stomach whenever he got close to the passionate redhead, was second-nature.

Furihata paced the perimeter of the room, the envelope clutched in one hand, as he hyper-focused on the task at hand. Akashi watched the silent one-man parade, and while he didn't understand the other man's way of doing things, he honored the process of moving with thought.

"Ok, ok, yeah, that'll work," Furihata mumbled to himself.

_All I'll need to do is slice off the flap. An inspector might have done that simply to see if there was a delivery address inside, yes, that'll work. _

"I'll leave it to you then," Akashi said, seeing the pleased, mischievous smirk filter across Furihata's face. "But don't forget the bus leaves at 5:30 for the game."

"Yes, tonight 5:30. I can't wait to see Kagami again," Furihata said, stuffing the envelope back into the bag, and then into his coat's breast pocket. "I'll be here early."

"And wear this," Akashi said, tossing his warm-up jacket at Furihata.

* * *

Akashi knew that Furihata was staring at him at the back of his head, but in such a public place, and with the black box constantly vibrating, he couldn't dare acknowledge him more than he did any of the other players, which meant, of course, not at all.

"Akashi-kun," the beautiful pink-haired, young woman with the enormous bouncing breasts, called as she ran, slow-motion-like across the empty court. Though no longer in a high school uniform, she nonetheless looked stunning. Her dress's skirt was dark blue, unsurprisingly, with tiny white polka dots, and the bodice of gauzy white lace that concealed, and accentuated, her more prominent physical feature.

"Satuski, married life suits you very well. We haven't seen each other since… Shintarō's victory celebration."

"I know, it's been too long," she said, throwing her arms around him. He stiffened, as usually at her causal touch, but she wasn't offended. "Is this your team?"

"Yes, from Hokkaido University," he said, motioning to the group of young men behind him. "Team, this is Aomine Satsuki, the best manager I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

"Hello everyone!" she said, with a bright smile and curtsied a little. Her eyes grazed over the team, cataloging them in a professional manner until she saw Furihata. Akashi knew she'd recognized him and he moved quickly to stop any conversation.

_Calm down, _Akashi told himself._ You anticipated this, Furihata has been warned. Control the conversation and Satsuki's movements, since you can't predict her tongue. _

"Where is Daiki?"

"Where he always is, goofing off with Kagami-kun. For two people who pretend to hate each other so much, they're obviously friends now. And when Tetsuya comes around the three of them are inseparable."

Akashi led her away from Furihata and toward the locker rooms.

"I'd like to greet them before the game, if possible."

"Sure Akashi-kun, I'll text Dai-chan now, and ask him to meet us at the back door."

* * *

"You're not going to stab me again, are you?" Kagami asked, as he pretended to hide behind Aomine.

Akashi relaxed as the black box went still for the first time in the last two hours.

"If I'd meant to stab you, Taiga, you would still have the scar," Akashi chuckled, darkly.

**_"God, you're creepy,"_ **Kagami mumbled, in English.

**_"I know," _**Akashi answered him in the same language.

"So, yeah," Aomine slurred lazily, his eyes blinking slowly like a large contented cat, "You're buying us dinner after, right?"

"If you win, I'll buy you dinner. If you lose, you'll buy mine," Akashi countered.

"What's that bullshit bet? We won't lose," Aomine replied without heat.

"You've both lost in the past, to each other, to Shintarō, even to me, if you care to recall."

"I want a good dinner, not Maji burger like this human vacuum cleaner always insists on," Aomine ignored the taunt, and pointed at Kagami, who just grinned.

"It's not my fault you can't win a burger eating contest," Kagami said, and then turned to Akashi to further drive the point home. "Six burgers and he's in the bathroom throwing up like some girl."

"Don't let Satsuki hear you making such sexist remarks," Akashi said.

"Don't let me hear what?" Satsuki asked, as she stepped outside, Furihata in tow. Akashi balked for a moment, then remembered that it was as safe to speak as it could be.

"Furihata?! What are you doing here?" Kagami asked, offering his former teammate a fist bump.

_He looks good in my warm-up jacket_, Akashi thought, and then shook the thought loose.

"I tagged alone with the Hokkaido University's basketball team," he answered, making no mention of Akashi.

"Akashi, he's coming with to dinner if we win," Kagami decided as he grabbed Furihata, and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "So, you'd better be ready to open up that fat wallet of yours."

"Who said I would pay for your date as well?" Akashi smiled, his golden eye flashing at the close physical contact Kagami and Furihata could enjoy without any thought, and in spite of that fact, his red eye was exceedingly happy at the turn of events.

"Don't be stingy," Aomine said.

"If you…," Akashi began, considering a wager that he was sure to lose, but wouldn't look like a sucker bet, and wouldn't harken back to his ruthless phase, "If you outscore Aomine, I'll pay for your friend's dinner. If not Aomine will pick up his portion of the tab."

"Oi! You think I'm going to let him, a Center, outscore me, the Power Forward?" Aomine's lazy attitude dissipated.

"I have to give him some incentive, Daiki, otherwise he won't earn that free meal."


	13. Chapter 13

This chapter is dedicated to sweetsmasher and .

* * *

"There will be a twenty to thirty minute wait," said the mama-san in the beautiful royal blue kimono bowed as she informed the party of the wait time. The lobby was overflowing with tourists of all nationalities and ilk.

Akashi nodded, saying nothing. Furihata wandered over to the massive fish tank on one wall and stood behind the small gathering of children with their faces pressed against the glass to watch the occupants. Kagami joined him after a few moments.

"Oi, Akashi, let's eat somewhere else; I'm starving," Aomine complained.

"We just got out of our coats, Dai-chan, be patient," Satsuki teased. Behind her the mama-san and her staff conferred quietly. One woman hurried out of the entrance hall.

"Why'd you pick this place anyway, Akashi? There must be hundreds of crab places 'round here. What's so special about this one?" Aomine threw himself into the only chair left unoccupied in the lobby. A woman, who a moment before had been speaking in French with her companions, jumped as the 175cm, 85 kg man's bulk rattled the entire row of chairs.

"Besides the enormous and kitschy crab we walked under in order to enter?" Akashi asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You said you wanted a 'good dinner,' and this place has an old and valued reputation for being just that. And… it should satisfy Taiga's desire to see my 'fat wallet' opened on the group's behalf."

"About that... Can I afford to pick up that kid's meal here? You do realize I play for the JBL, not the NBA, right?" Aomine glared at Akashi while pointing at Furihata.

"Are you crying poor Daiki? And after losing to Taiga…"

"I didn't 'lose to Taiga,' because we weren't competing against each other," Aomine insisted, getting up and advancing on Akashi. "We play to win, no matter who scores."

"Tetsuya would be very proud," Akashi said, patting the angry Power Forward on the shoulder.

"Tsk," Aomine hissed as he shook off Akashi's hand.

"Akashi-sama, your table is prepared. Please follow me," the mama-san said, as she appeared at Akashi's side and bowed.

"That was quick," Satsuki said.

"Forgive us, for not recognizing you right away, Akashi-sama," she said, bowing a little deeper still.

"Of course," he sighed. "Just take us to our table."

* * *

They had a private booth in the back of the restaurant with a solicitous clutch of women in matching blue kimonos to tend to their every need, desire, or want.

Sake was brought out without asking. Sushi materialized in great and vast quantities even before the menu appeared.

"May I recommend the Kinnomai? Three orders should be sufficient for your party," the pretty waitress with the dangerously long eyelashes asked.

Akashi looked briefly at the multi-dish meal, noted the price, and nodded.

"Oi, don't we get to order too?" Aomine demanded from his seat at Akashi's right elbow. Satsuki sat to Akashi's left, with Furihata next to her. Kagami sat next to Aomine, across from Furihata.

"I just ordered everything on the menu in one go, is there something more? Should I order out for you as well?"

Akashi took a long sip from his Sake cup as Aomine grumbled something incoherent that sounded almost like a thank you.

_At ¥13,500 per order you could at least try to show some appreciation, Daiki. _

Akashi sent a quick text to his father's accountant, warning him about the large sum of money he was about to put on his bank card.

* * *

When the food began to arrive, it's parade and presentation lasted longer than the introduction of players during the game that night. One dish after another was named and then placed carefully on the table: king crab, snow crab, crab sashimi, vinegar crab, hair crab, fried king crab claws, king crab omelet, crab steak, rice porridge, pickled crab, and the list went on and on.

A waitress knelt off to the side of the table and cracked open a crab leg before handing it over to Akashi. He took the paltry bit of meat – amazing really how little such an expensive dish yielded – and bit into it. He nodded, politely, and indicated that the rest of the table should dig in.

Akashi put very little on his plate, a bit of sashimi, a spoonful of rice porridge, a single serving of omelet, and watched as the rest of the food disappeared at an alarming and mysterious rate.

"So, Furi-kun," Kagami said around a mouthful of crab meat as he reached for his next bit with greedy chopsticks, "How's school going? Meet any nice girls? You know, how's life treating you?"

Furihata blushed and hurriedly filled his mouth with the first thing he could reach.

"Now, Kagami-kun, that's not very nice to put Furihata on the spot like that," Satsuki said, patting the blushing young man in question on the arm.

"So there is a girl," Kagami grinned while inhaling his next piece of crab.

"There is… someone," Furihata said, very quietly, almost so quietly that Akashi had to strain to hear the words. Everyone leaned forward at the exact moment.

"Tell us, we're dying over here," Kagami said, grinning.

"But, I'm not sure if my feelings are reciprocated," Furihata said at last.

As the rest of the table moved in even closer to hear Furihata's soft words, Akashi leaned back in his chair and picked absently at his food.

_Who is she? _Akashi wondered._ I wonder what so special about this girl. _

"What's she like?" Satsuki asked, almost as if she had heard Akashi's thoughts.

"Passionate about everything, ridiculous smart, a perfectionist…"

"She sounds awesome."

_She sounds like a piece of work,_ Akashi dismissed, petulantly. _He should have mentioned there was a girl... I wouldn't have – _

"She's in one of your classes?" Aomine asked, then tried to look indifferent again by shoving more food into his mouth.

"Last semester, but not this one."

"Aww, too bad," Satsuki cooed.

_Yeah, yeah, so sad,_ Akashi thought, nearing his limit on how much he listen to Furihata babble about this girl. He put his napkin on the table, and pushed his chair back, meaning to escape to the bathroom.

"But we still spend time together, almost every day in fact."

_Everyday?_ He thought, gathering himself to stand. _How does he have time to spend 'every day' with her, when he's already spending it with... Oh, he's talking about me? _

The knot of confused emotions loosened in his chest, and he relaxed back into the chair. He took another sip of Sake.

"Oh! That's a good sign," Satsuki said.

"So, why aren't you sure? Ask her out?" Aomine barked.

"It's complicated. We're friends, right? But we shared a small, chaste kiss two nights ago," Furihata said, looking down at his plate. If he looked at Akashi right this moment, he was sure he'd see anger there, but this was the only way of speaking about what happened, and bringing it to light without directly confronting him.

"Really? Then what are you waiting for?" Kagami asked.

"It came out of nowhere; I was just suddenly kissed, and I wonder if it was because of excitement – we had just finished solving a very hard problem – or if it was genuine."

_Look at me, _Akashi pleaded silently. _Just look at me and you'll know._

"Oi, I don't know you at all, but grow some balls, take charge, and kiss her. If she's not into you, you'll know right then. It's better to rip the bandage off all at once," Aomine said.

"But… I don't –"

"Don't even start with that 'don't want to ruin our friendship' crap. Man up, Furihata," Aomine said, punctuating his statement by winking at Satsuki. She giggled.

Furihata lowered his head.

_Will you be brave enough to kiss me, Kōki?_

* * *

As midnight approached and the last of the plates were cleared away from the table, Aomine looked at his watch and groaned.

"We're catching a flight out in a few hours," he complained.

"Yes, I've got to get these two back to the hotel, and into bed so that I have some peace tomorrow," Satsuki said.

"Is it much like having two very unruly children?" Akashi asked.

"A good comparison," she confirmed. "Tetsuya and I often trade stories – his students for my husband and his best buddy."

"We are not buddies," both Kagami and Aomine shouted at the same moment, glaring at each other.

"Of course not, not at all, my mistake," Satsuki agreed, standing. "Come on Dai-chan, it's time to go."

Aomine allowed his wife to pull him to his feet.

At the door, just before parting, Akashi took Aomine aside.

"Will you see Kise any time soon?"

"Yeah, we're playing one-on-one next Wednesday. Why?"

"One-on-one? What about his knee?"

"Not basketball, we play video games, we just call it one-on-one," Aomine said, a resentful sadness coloring his normally placid tone.

"Tell him to keep an eye out for an email. Apparently Shintarō has been trying unsuccessfully to get a hold of him."

"I'll pass the message along," Aomine said with a wink.

Satsuki awkwardly hugged Akashi goodbye while Kagami and Furihata made plans to see each other again over the summer break.

As the three of them got in the taxi that Akashi arranged for them, he and Furihata stood at the curb and watched them go.

"How about a cup of coffee back at my room?" Furihata asked.

"I'm not much for coffee," Akashi said. He was trembling very slightly, but not from the cold. "Do you have any tea?"


End file.
